


Learning By Example

by mickeym



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-07
Updated: 2008-09-07
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I want to mark you," Sam says, pressing another kiss to Dean's jaw. "Come on you. Piss on you. My scent all over you, so there's no doubt in anyone's mind."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning By Example

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is underage at the beginning of the story, but there is no underage sex.

He's not meant to see this, Sam knows. 

He tells himself that as he draws closer, closer, pulled in by the quiet gasps, the soft panting sounds, the low rumble of voices. By one particular voice, that he would recognize anywhere, no matter how rough and desperate it sounded.

Dean's voice.

Dean slipped out of the house a couple of hours ago, with a careless wave and "be good, Sammy, I'll be back in a while." Sam isn't sure what he said to him, if he said anything. He was wrestling with Trig homework and not really paying attention. But, homework was finished, and Dean didn't come back, and Sam doesn't do bored very well. He leaves a note for Dean ("gone for a walk, yes I'm armed, back in a bit") and heads out; decides to poke around in the wooded area behind their house.

He really didn't expect to come across anyone, much less his brother and some random guy.

The branches crackle and snap softly where Sam walks, and he holds his breath for a moment, afraid Dean and the other guy will hear him. They're too busy in what they're doing, though, and after a minute Sam eases a little closer, heart pounding in his chest when he realizes what exactly they're doing.

If anyone asked Sam, he'd admit in a heartbeat that his brother is something of a slut. He's lost track over the years of how many girls Dean's been with; dates, casual fucks, whatever. Sam's come home more than once to find Dean and some girl humping on the couch, or stood in the hallway and listened to the squeaking and squealing of box springs, jealousy bitter and hot in his belly.

He's never once thought his brother did other guys, but the hard evidence – ha – is right here in front of him, his brother on his back, legs up over some guy's shoulders. Sam swallows hard and moves just a little more; he has to get closer. Has to _see_.

The guy is talking, grunts and moans catching the words, splintering them, and each one hits Sam hard, a fist to his gut, until he feels raw hunger coiling through him.

"…pretty, take it, yeah, God—your ass, man, fuck…"

Dean's making noises Sam's never heard from him, sounds like whimpers and breathy gasps, and Sam wants to be there; wants to kiss those sounds from him and swallow them down.

Sam bites his lip to keep from moaning when the guy fucking Dean pulls out and pushes back in, over and over, agonizingly slow. The angle Sam's watching from isn't great, but he can see the way Dean tries to follow with his body; sees Dean glistening with sweat, with come, and the way his asshole clenches open, closed, spasming. 

"Fucking tease, fuck me, c'mon." Dean's voice is shot through with desperation, and Sam shudders in time with him when the guy shoves back in, hard and fast, grunting something that sounds like, "fucking pushy bottom."

Sam palms himself through his jeans, his own dick hard, aching, throbbing every time his heart beats. He wants to unzip, stroke himself in time with the guy fucking Dean. Wants to _be_ the guy fucking Dean, feel Dean's ass clenching tight around him as he comes. Wants to bury himself inside his brother and fill him, own him, keep him.

The guy's strokes are faster now, choppy and hard, and Sam watches him shove in and hold, straining forward as he comes. Dean writhes beneath him, hips working frantically up, up, and Sam realizes Dean's beating off, his own strokes getting jerkier and rougher as he gets close.

"C'mon, dude, I'm close, give it to me." 

"Hang on, hang on," the guy growls, and he's kneeling up over Dean, stripping the condom off. Sam shivers at the sight of Dean laying there, frantically working his dick, body gleaming in the muted light.

Sam frowns, because what the hell? He just _got_ it. Then the guy shifts, taking his dick in his hand, and closes his eyes. He grunts again, and pisses, stream splashing out, down over Dean. Over his chest and stomach, over his dick and balls. Sam stares, heat swirling through him as he watches this guy piss on his brother…watches his brother arch up into it, and fucking _come_ , dick swelling in Dean's hand, spatters of thick, creamy spunk over his hand, his belly, mingling with the other fluids.

Sam's never seen anything so hot in his entire life, and he wants…oh, God, he wants. He wants to be that guy. Wants Dean under him like that, fucked out, messy with come and piss and sweat, looking like that because _Sam_ did that to him. Not because some random guy Sam's never seen has done it.

The guy looks down at Dean, a half-smile on his face, and reaches down to smear the mess over Dean's stomach. "You're a kinky bastard, Winchester," he says, rubbing one finger over Dean's lips.

Dean laughs, a harsh bark of sound, and sucks the finger clean. "Takes one to know one, dude."

A sharp _smack_ of skin-on-skin echoes in the quiet, and the guy laughs, too. "Guess it does. I'll see you at work tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean props himself up on his elbows and gives the guy that cocky grin Sam knows so well. "I'll see ya."

Sam eases back from where he's been watching, then stumbles down the path he was following until he's clear of the trees and underbrush and can run the short distance back to the house.

His jeans and briefs are sticky with come, and he strips them off and shoves them into the laundry basket before getting into the shower. He jerks off , dick still hard in spite of the orgasm earlier, picturing Dean laying on the grass in the sun, wet and fucked out. He lets the picture in his head morph until Dean's kneeling in front of him, mouth open, face upturned as Sam jerks off onto him, come spattering over his face, onto his lips. Dean licks his lips clean and grins, eyes dark and hungry. _Want all of it, Sammy. C'mon, give it all to me._ Sam braces against the shower wall and shudders through his orgasm as he pictures himself pissing, golden stream arcing, spilling down onto Dean, cascading down over his lips, chin, chest. 

By the time Sam's able to wash himself off (again) and get out of the shower, Dean's home, pounding on the bathroom door. "Gotta let someone else have the shower, Princess."

"Fuck off," Sam calls back, wrapping a towel around his waist. "You stink like sex," he adds, as he brushes past Dean. 

Dean just smirks at him as he heads into the bathroom. "Someone's gotta keep the ladies from bein' lonely." 

Sam rolls his eyes and very determinedly doesn't think about Dean naked, voice rough and desperate, begging for some guy to fuck him.

~~~~~

Part of the reason Sam leaves for college is Dean. He'll never tell him that; couldn't ever tell him that. But it's too hard to want something – someone – all the time, and not be able to have it. To know you'll never be able to have it.

Sam loves Jess. She's smart and sexy, fun and interesting. She'll try almost anything at least once and she seldom backs down from a challenge. Losing her goes beyond hurting; it's loss and grief and pain so deep Sam feels as though a part of him has been scooped out, leaving him hollow, empty. 

He never thought it was possible to hurt as badly as he does, and still be able to walk and talk and function.

It actually hurts worse when Sam realizes his feelings for Dean are still there, because it feels weirdly like being unfaithful. He kisses Lori; he kisses Sarah. But he beats off in the shower with pictures of Dean in his head, long, lean body, cut abs and tight muscles, freckles dusted over cheekbones, collarbones, shoulders. Imagines spreading Dean's asscheeks and licking into him, rimming him until he's wet and open and ready for Sam's cock. Imagines biting Dean's throat, sucking heat to the surface until bruises form, marks to show the world who Dean belongs to.

And then there's the whole golden showers thing – and yeah, Sam's geek enough to admit that he looked it up (more than once), did some research on it. He figures that kink makes him less of a freak than wanting – being in love with – his brother, though really not by much.

~~~~~

He's not sure which one of them gets careless about boundaries and personal space first; not sure that it matters, really. What matters is they do.

Little things, at first. Like leaving the bathroom door open while showering. Or taking a leak.

It escalates to crowding into the bathroom together, one going for the shower, the other brushing his teeth. Or using the can. Knowing the other is in the shower, beating off, and lingering. Just for a moment.

Sam jerks off at night, in bed, knowing Dean's not asleep yet. Listening to his brother listen to him getting himself off. Listening to Dean jerking off, the quiet gasps Dean doesn't quite try to cover up.

Lingering looks they don't hide any more.

~~~~~

Midnight. Sam wakes up, groggy from the three shots of tequila he downed before Dean cleaned up the scratches left by the Harpy they were hunting.

His body aches and throbs from a dozen smaller scrapes and cuts, bruises rising to the surface in several different places from being thrown against walls. He needs to piss, bladder throbbing, full from a couple bottles of water he washed the tequila down with.

It's mostly dark in the room, moonlight filtered and muted by the curtains, and it's just enough light so Sam doesn't stumble into anything. He doesn't bother with the light in the bathroom; it's not like it's pitch black, and he can aim. 

Dean's there, leaning over the toilet, one hand bracing himself against the wall behind, the other hidden. Arm moving, smooth, then jerky, smooth again. Rhythmic, like the quiet grunts falling from his lips. Sam steps up behind him and wraps his arms around Dean's waist, wraps one hand around the one Dean's working his dick with, stilling it. 

"Let me," Sam breathes, wondering as he does if this isn't just a part of his dream. If he's still in bed, sleeping. Dean tips his head back against Sam's shoulder, turning so his lips brush Sam's neck, his ear.

"Shouldn't," he says, the word hardly more than a whisper.

"Want to." Sam pushes Dean's hand away, strokes Dean himself. Presses his own growing erection against Dean's ass. "Wanted to for forever. Let me."

"Yes. Please." Quiet words, puffs of warm, moist air against Sam's neck. "Sammy."

"I got you." Still so quiet, night time adding a layer of intimacy. Sam strokes Dean slowly, works his hand upward, down, up again. Rubs his fingertips over the silky skin, caressing the head. Dean shudders in his arms, hissing when Sam rubs and pinches at the small opening there at the tip, smoothing the droplets of pre-come into the skin. "Wanted this for so long," Sam whispers. "Want to touch you. Taste you. Feel you. Fuck you." He turns his head and ghosts a kiss over Dean's jaw, licks at the stubble and shivers when it scratches his tongue. "Saw you, once. With a guy. He fucked you, and he pissed on you. Like he was marking you. Was so fucking jealous, Dean, he was marking you and you're _mine_."

Dean groans, low and thick, and Sam feels Dean's dick swell in his hand. He strokes faster, harder, feels the dampness where Dean's leaking steadily, easing the way.

"I want to mark you," Sam says, pressing another kiss to Dean's jaw. "Come on you. Piss on you. My scent all over you, so there's no doubt in anyone's mind."

"Sam—Christ, I," Dean swallows, the sound loud and rough in the quiet room. 

"Want you to come for me, Dean." Sam bites the words into the skin under Dean's jaw. "Then you're gonna go down on your knees for me, aren't you?" Dean shudders; Sam feels it ripple from Dean to him and back again. "Aren't you? Gonna drop to your knees and let me mark you up."

"Y-yeah." He pants the word out, groaning over and over as he comes, thick and sticky, warm slick spreading between Sam's fingers. Sam finishes him off, strokes and caresses until Dean's pushing at his hand, a quiet hiss when it's too much.

He leans back against Sam for a moment, practically boneless, body still jerking faintly with aftershocks. Sam sucks his fingers clean then turns enough to kiss Dean properly, letting Dean taste himself in Sam's mouth, bitter and salt slick on his tongue. Dean pushes Sam's pajama pants down, freeing his erection, and it's Sam's turn to groan at the feel of heat and soft-rough calluses scrape-sliding over sensitive skin.

"In the tub," he murmurs, pushing Dean gently. "On your knees."

Dean's eyes are wide in the dim light, and Sam wishes there was just a little more light so he could see Dean's face. See his pupils, blown wide with hunger, only a thin ring of green around the black, and kiss-swollen lips. 

"On your knees," Sam says again, then, "I'll be right back." He has to _see_ Dean. Needs to see this.

A quick flick switches on one of the lamps in the main room, giving just enough glow into the bathroom for Sam to see. He pauses by the tub and pushes his pants all the way off, then looks at Dean. Just looks, at his brother waiting for him, on his knees in the bathtub. Dean's stroking his dick slowly, gently, licking his lips like he still tastes Sam's kiss. But it's his eyes, when he looks up at Sam, that hit Sam like a punch to the gut.

Dark, dark pupils, with a heat in them Sam's never seen before. Brilliant green surrounding the dark, thin ring just barely containing that heat and hunger. He's absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, and Sam reaches out to rub his thumb over Dean's mouth. "Mine," he says, breath catching in his chest when Dean nips at his thumb.

"Show me," Dean tells him, and Sam growls. Takes his dick in hand and rubs it over Dean's mouth, smearing pre-come and spit over those shiny, swollen lips before pressing against Dean's mouth, pushing inside.

And oh, God, it's incredible. Hot and wet, and Dean's tongue is fluttering, moving, sliding over his throbbing cock, with just enough suction to make Sam want more. He fucks Dean's mouth slowly, then faster, trembling when Dean hollows his cheeks and _takes_ it. It's wet and messy, and when Dean pulls off him slowly, Sam stares at the strings of spit connecting them. He touches the corner of Dean's mouth with his thumb and presses back inward until he hits the back of Dean's throat. Dean gags around him once, then just takes him in, over and over, until Sam's head is swimming and his breath is coming fast and stuttered, heat coiling low and tight in his belly. 

"G-gonna come," Sam chokes out, just an instant before his balls draw up and his cock swells. He shoots into Dean's mouth, slick and hot; feels Dean swallowing around him, desperate, greedy for all Sam can give him. Dean whines a little when Sam pulls back, and then he's jacking his cock fast and hard, come splattering on Dean's face, his throat, his chest. 

It takes a minute for Sam's legs to stop quivering enough for him to step into the tub with Dean, and he watches Dean lick his lips clean, hunger spiking through him again. "You want this?" He has to ask, because if the answer is no…well, Sam hates that it might be, but he'll respect it.

Dean nods. No words, just a nod and a low noise of assent. He tips his head back, eyes falling shut, and it's—everything. Everything Sam has ever wanted, since he first saw his brother laying in the grass with another guy. Everything he's wanted since long before that, and didn't know how to express it.

His bladder was throbbing before, and now he's come, it's a million times worse. An all-consuming need to let go, let it rush out of him.

"In your mouth," Sam says hoarsely. "You don't have to swallow, but I want—want you to." Dean nods again, his features relaxing; his whole body settling as he opens his mouth, tongue extended just the barest bit.

Sam pushes forward, tip of his dick resting against Dean's mouth. Letting go is a rush, relief sweeping through him and over him, and Sam feels dizzy with it. He watches as the liquid slides over Dean's lips and tongue – oh, God, he's pissing in his brother's mouth – and back out, then down over his chin. Sam leans back a little and his stream arcs outward, then down, soft wet sounds as it hits, spattering against Dean's throat and chest, then lower. Dean's half-hard again, cock swelling as the stream tapers off into droplets, then stops altogether. 

Dean leans forward and licks the droplets clinging to the tip of Sam's cock, and when he swallows them down, Sam's legs give out. He hits the slick bottom of the tub with a loud crack and a wince, and then doesn't care because Dean's pulling him into a kiss that tastes like salt and bitter, and strong musk. It's a heavy flavor, but not completely unpleasant, and they trade kisses until the flavor is gone, nothing but _them_ left in the kisses.

Sam pulls back when his lips start to ache, and rests his forehead against Dean's. There are a thousand things he wants to say, but he doesn't know where to start, or how to start, or if he should even say anything. So they kneel there, breathing in the thick scent all around them, neither one saying a word.

"Need to get up," Dean finally says, the sound echoing weirdly around the bathroom. "This is killing my knees."

Sam laughs, then winces when he goes to stand up. "Mine, too."

"Want first shower?" 

Sam hesitates, then says, "we could share."

Dean eyes him up and down, then shrugs. "Fine by me."

There's a lot that needs to be said, but Sam thinks it can wait until morning, after they've showered and slept a while longer. Right now, words would be superfluous.


End file.
